


5 Times Blame Almost Remembered (+1 Time He Did)

by orphan_account



Category: Blame the Hero (Web Series), Brandon Rogers - Fandom, Rogersverse
Genre: Blame the Hero - Freeform, Brandon Rogers - Freeform, Gen, I Really Don’t Know Why I Wrote This, It Was Just A Really Good Series Okay?, Memory Loss, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of drugs, Swearing, Time Travel, confusing timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21670939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s been years. And yet, Grandpa George keepsalmostremembering things.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	5 Times Blame Almost Remembered (+1 Time He Did)

**Author's Note:**

> Well... I binged nearly the entirety of Brandon Roger’s channel over Thanksgiving break and... wow, I honestly didn’t expect to be crying over the ‘Try Me Bitch’ grandpa from Vine, but it was surprisingly emotional. 
> 
> And so... the obvious next step is shitty fan fiction written for a fandom that has only 6 works to its name on this site. Let’s gooooooo

1.

It could’ve been the first time he started remembering. It could’ve been the hundredth. Grandpa didn’t know, and he wasn’t really sure he cared. Hell, he didn’t even know _what_ he was remembering; just that something was in his mind that wasn’t there before. All he knew was that he didn’t know where he was, his family was missing, and the tattoo on his arm was driving him crazy. The black markings didn’t hurt or anything, but… Something was wrong. Something was weird. He wanted it _off_. 

“Please…” The words fell from his mouth as he stumbled into a park ranger. A… park ranger? When had he gone to a park…? “I need you to help me find my family, or I might never make it back to civilization.”

The blonde-haired twink’s lips turned up in the corners in a very poor imitation of a smile, and something twinged inside Grandpa’s brain. “As Park Ranger, it is my responsibility and honor. It will also give me ample time to fill you in on the 31 dangers of styrofoam,” the man praddled off as he saluted the other. 

...Something was off. Something was very off, and even though he swore time and time again that he’s never felt fear, something close to what he’d imagine it would feel like fills his body. And, surprisingly enough, it’s not at the prospect of getting an hour long lecture about styrofoam by a hippy twink. 

There’s a way that the ranger’s monotone voice carried on. How his apathetic eyes seemed to stare right through him, looking even more dead inside than the dead-end-job employee he seemingly was. Something here was wrong, something here was bad, something about this man just screaming ‘ _wrong’_ to him-

“Oh, fuck that-“

He was running away on unsteady legs before he could even realize why he was running. 

2.

Sebastian had been biting his fist in pain, trying to blink back the tears as the blonde man continued to tattoo his arm. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen around them, but, all of a sudden, he felt something twist in his stomach. 

Something was missing, but he wasn’t sure what. 

He could’ve almost ignored it. He could’ve passed it off as eating too much ice cream for breakfast (his parents had left him home alone again) and moved on it if weren’t for his tattoo artist. The blonde man froze suddenly and, with a moment that Sebastian was compelled to follow, turned to look towards the door. 

For as lifeless as the other had looked the entire interaction, Sebastian noted that the other’s eyes flickered with the tiniest bit of what could've been emotion as he stared at the open door. 

“...Was someone supposed to be here?” he said quietly, almost… confused. And, for a moment, Sebastian saw something. A man coming through the door, and then the same scene but _different_ , two men now, both talking to him…. What were they saying… who were they…

And then, the moment was gone as soon as it began, and Sebastian was just itching to get his tattoo. 

“Someone _is_ here, and you’re not sticking a needle in him!” Sebastian stated matter-of-factly, wiggling his arm in the other’s grip as if to get the attention back on him. All he succeeded in was the freshly inked skin screaming in pain, and then he was back to biting his fist to keep himself from crying. 

“...I guess you’re right,” the man said, eyes shifting back to the blank, emotionless expression it was before.

Ink hit skin, and the tattoo was continued. 

3.

“Siri, I need you to find me a pharmacist.”

“I have found three doctors nearby,” the monotone, robotic voice replied back, and Blame internally curse. What was it with phone people being so unhelpful when he was just trying to do his best, dawg? He almost threatened to break the phone, just to show that blonde-haired prick that he wasn’t as fucking stupid as they pretended he was. However… he needed a pharmacist. And this device was his only hope of finding one. 

“Elm… Siri….” The names jumbled in his head for a moment beforehe immediately dropped it for a language he knows well “ _Bitch_ , I said a pharmacist!” 

...Wait, why did he need a pharmacist? Something was wrong, right? He needed a pharmacist,.. doctor? But for what? There was a cold barrel pressing against his forehead…. a medic, _he needed a medic, he needed-_

“I have found seven drug dealers nearby,” Siri’s robotic voice chirped back, and Grandpa stopped in his tracks… What had he been thinking about? 

“...Alright.” Fuck whatever his train of thought had been on. Grandpa needed his sugar, especially if he was going to have to put up with those asshole kids any longer… Where were those kids, anyways? _Where the fuck was he?_

…

… He could worry about that later. Grandpa was going to find himself some drugs. 

  
  





“Have you seen this app?” Blame turned back and forth, admiring the way the old man in the mirror followed his every move. “It shows you what you're gonna look like when you get old and fucked-up!”

He turned with a grin to find… Sam? Did he come to the store with Sam? Or maybe it was Donna… god, he loved Donna. He had fucked many a foster mom in his time but... she was his favorite. She smoked dope with him, and she shared his passion for guns... where the fuck was Donna, he missed her...

Instead of either of his temporary foster parents, however, it was just his grandson staring up at him, pants on the floor, head cocked to the side, thumb in his mouth. 

...What had he been thinking of again?  
  





“ _Get ready to go through_ **_time_ ** **-** ”

The voice was unrecognizable for a second, and Blame jerked up where he was sitting. He was in a car, that was all he knew, and he barely took a moment to try and figure out why the fuck he was there before shrugging. He had woken up in weirder places and, besides…. 

There was something he needed to do, right? There was something about time.

He unconsciously scratched at his left arm, before something clicked in his mind. The most important thing to focus on. 

“...Can I get an ice cream when we get there?”

Kathy jerked around in her seat, fixing him with a very confused look before turning to, thankfully, look back at the road. “Dad, _what are you doing here_?”

...What was he doing here? Where even _was_ here? Before he can even ask the screaming lady any questions, she’s rambling off again, haphazardly pulling into a parking lot as she points to the side of the road. 

“Yeah, yeah, look, there’s that hippie fuck I was telling you about-“

And just like that, life was back to being too hectic to know quite what was going on. 

+1 

And then, one day, it had just suddenly… clicked. His long sleeves had ridden up and, for some reason, the sight of his tattoo on this particular day sparked something.

He remembered everything. 

He remembered who he was. He remembered what had happened. Every detail, from nights spent alone in his house as Sebastian, to trying to be a hardcore thug as Blame… and how it had all ended. 

But in that moment of clarity, he didn’t find himself wanting to hold onto those memories. 

For one… it was confusing to think about. All the times he had visited, all the people he had met before, only to meet again with a freshly-wiped memory… it was hard to think about. Both lives were meshing and melting together, creating a mixing pot of memories that were becoming more and more intertwined and mixed with one another the more he thought about it.

...But that wasn’t the only reason…

After all… he had his daughter, Kathy. He had that asshole grandson that he still loved, tiny dick and all. He had a life here; a life that was separate from his old one. He was Grandpa George, now. Anything that Blame might’ve done in the past, or Sebastian… that wasn’t him, now. And besides...

The woman sitting next to him shifted slightly, laying her head against chest, and his heart grew so much he felt it was going to burst. 

“What’s on your mind, you old slut?” she wheezed out with a lopsided grin. She turned to grab his hand and, quickly before she could see, he adjusted the sleeve so that it was covering the tattoo once more. 

She knew it was there; there was no way she _didn’t_. But…

“Nothing, Donna,” George responded quietly.

She loved him for his current self. The man who had fucked over the world and then saved it. And, not only that, but… the man who had forgotten. 

He didn’t need to remember everything to be who he ‘really’ was. And, with that thought…. 

He smiled, and he let go. Like water spilling from cupped hands, the memories dripped away bit by bit, piece by piece, person by person, until…

Until it was just Grandpa George and Donna Phitts, sitting on the couch together once more. 

And Grandpa smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> _”...Because what may seem like the end of a chapter might just be an origin story all along...”_


End file.
